The young woman sits on a balcony, happily tracing the fresh wounds on her face that will no doubt heal into scars. Enjoying a long-awaited meal after a battle, chopsticks in one hand, and gulping straight from her bottle of Sake, which of course only sends her into a coughing fit from the strong alcohol on her first swig, spitting out the huge gulp she had just taken.

"Ack! This flavor! 'Tis made of rice, no? I had quite the confidence it would taste no different than sikhye or gamju. Nevermind! Thou must hear of what mischief the Kurokumo Clan is up to. And um, thou won't tell lady Outis of mine improperness, right?"